


it's not the flowers in your hair

by Awriterwrites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Ex Sex, Exes to Lovers, Happy Ending, It happens, Light Angst, M/M, Smut, missing each other, see what i did there?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites
Summary: Then, Harry’s mouth is on his and it’s wet, almost vicious, and God, this is everything Louis has ever wanted. Louis hears himself gasp in surprise but he welcomes it — invites Harry in by gripping his forearms and widening his stance so Harry can push closer, closer, closer. Harry’s skin smells like the woods in late spring and his tongue is insistent as it pushes into his mouth and God. The taste of his mouth. Louis fucking missed him so much.





	it's not the flowers in your hair

**Author's Note:**

> For @twopoppies and @freetheankles -- i love you. Have some smut.

“You have glitter in your hair.” 

Harry blinks slowly. He tilts his head just a fraction to the right in that way of his that makes Louis feel a little...exposed.

The silence stretches between them, taut and fragile.

He wonders how they got here. What happened to bring them to this point — this place of  _ estrangement _ , of complete  _ hesitation _ .

“It’s blue. The glitter.” Louis doesn’t know what to say. He always knows what to say. He’s  _ always  _ known what to say to  _ Harry _ .

“Why are you here?” Harry’s voice is deep, tired. The slow honey of it drips inside Louis’ brain and makes him feel untethered. It reminds him of before. It reminds him of hot nights on that beach that one time and cold mornings when they lived together in London, Louis barefooted, Harry with those awful thick green woolen things on the end of his long, long legs.

“I —” 

Why is he here? He can’t remember now that he’s in front of Harry. Harry with his big eyes and big mouth and larger than life.... _ everything _ . 

“I — um.” 

Harry looks at him, expectant. Guarded.

Speak, Louis. Goddamn it.  _ Speak _ .

“I miss you.” 

The words are rushed. Blurted out. Not enough.

“You —” Harry recoils, just a little, but Louis sees it. 

Quiet.

“You miss me.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement, with a hint of disbelief behind the words. 

_ Fuck _ . Harry still looks so beautiful to Louis. How is it that he can still unravel Louis like this? Make Louis feel like he’s staring at a fallen star, burning and bright, too much for this world. 

Harry makes Louis feel so much.

The chair scratches the floor when Harry stands abruptly, startling Louis enough that his glass of water tips over, sloshing over the table top and down on to the hardwood floor. Harry’s body is stiff, stilted, as he stalks over to the sink. His palms slap the countertop and he hangs his head. 

This time the silence feels volatile, almost as if one wrong move, one wrong word, will set the space between them aflame. 

Louis’ shirt is wet, the water spreading in a slow, steady bloom over his hip — his thin t-shirt clinging to his skin that feels itchy and wrong somehow. He moves slowly, unsure of what to do next. He watches Harry’s back and shoulders move under the delicate rhythm of his breath. His athletic shorts are low on his hips, loose but just clingy enough that Louis can see the soft swell of his bum and God help him, Louis wants him. So fucking much. 

“Haz…” Louis places a tentative hand on Harry’s shoulder, backing up to the cabinets so he can see Harry’s face. He misses the curtain of hair that used to frame Harry’s features like intricate scrolled wood framing a priceless work of art. He misses the way Harry used to smile at him, like he was the most important thing in the world — in Harry’s world.

Harry doesn’t answer, still staring down into the empty stainless steel sink. His strong jaw ticks just once and Louis sees the way his nostrils flare when he exhales forcefully. 

Suddenly Harry turns and Louis feels trapped, the weight of Harry’s emotion coming to rest on his chest, settling in his lungs like a lead weight.

“You miss me?” Harry speaks in a whisper but he might as well be screaming. Louis just stands there, helpless, as Harry cages him in against the counter. Louis can feel the heat of Harry’s body covering him, tickling at his skin. He can see the quick bob of Harry’s adam’s apple and he can smell the sweet, irresistible scent of him, drifting up between them like cashmere, almost unbearably soft, the most pleasurable assault to his senses. He forces himself to look up into Harry’s eyes. 

Green, green, green. Endless. 

“I…” Louis wants to say how much he misses him. He wants to tell him about how he can’t sleep anymore, all he can think about at night when the world finally quiets is the way that Harry snored in his sleep and the way his body felt next to him — reassuring and so fucking real he could cry right now over how much he misses him in their bed. He wants to tell Harry how he picks up the phone to text or call him about 50 times a day but when he stops himself he has to swallow down the bittersweet anger at himself for letting Harry go. 

He wants to tell Harry to kiss him. To  _ say  _ something. To  _ do  _ something. 

Harry stares down at him and Louis watches the fury melt into something different, something more visceral, almost feral. There’s a look in Harry’s eye that makes Louis shake a little, need coursing through him like a tidal wave. He’s not sure if it’s because Harry is so close to him, finally, after all this time, or if it’s the way Harry is looking at him but Louis just can’t think right now. He can only  _ feel _ . 

Love. Desire. Sorrow.

_ Want _ .

Then, Harry’s mouth is on his and it’s wet, almost vicious, and  _ God _ , this is everything Louis has ever wanted. Louis hears himself gasp in surprise but he welcomes it — invites Harry in by gripping his forearms and widening his stance so Harry can push closer, closer, closer. Harry’s skin smells like the woods in late spring and his tongue is insistent as it pushes into his mouth and  _ God _ . The taste of his mouth. Louis fucking missed him so much.

“You fucking —” Harry bit down on Louis’ bottom lip, hard enough for Louis to cry out but also hard enough to make his cock jump in his pants. “You fucking miss me?” Harry growls against Louis’ mouth and Louis searches for words but can’t utter them because Harry’s tongue is pushing into his mouth again and the slick, wet slide of his tongue against Louis’ is sending electricity up and down Louis’ body in waves. 

Harry pushes against him roughly, the feel of the hard granite against his backside making Louis wince but he’s not going to say anything. God, no. He’s not doing or saying anything that might stop Harry, might stop them from kissing like this. Harry ruts against him and  _ fuck _ . Harry is so hard. He always did get hard fast. He could always keep it up too, Louis remembers. He could get it up a couple times a night if Louis played his cards right, which he often did. Louis always knew how to play Harry like a fucking instrument. He knew how to touch him just right, knew how to turn him a little wild, a little out of control. But now...he doesn’t — doesn’t know what to do. This is unfamiliar territory. And Harry shouldn't be unfamiliar to Louis. In any way. 

Louis misses Harry’s cock. So goddamn much. His body aches for it--needs it like oxygen. He can almost feel it inside of him, but it’s not, is it? It’s not and Louis wants it. So fucking bad.  

“Harry…” He moans, tilting his head back so Harry can suck a line of kisses down his neck and into the space between his shoulder and neck. Louis rolls his hips forward, dirty and desperate, and Harry pushes back. It feels a bit like a battle and Louis isn’t sure if he’s supposed to try and win or not. 

“Harry…” He says again, staring up at the ceiling of Harry’s new flat. He has his fingers tangled in Harry’s hair, Harry’s hands are digging into the flesh of his hips and he hates that he’s going to ruin this — hates that he’s going to stop Harry from kissing him again.

Harry’s head snaps up and  _ Christ  _ he’s fucking beautiful. His cheeks are flushed, his hair is a mess and his lips are ruby red, slick and begging to be kissed or wrapped around Louis’ dick. 

“What?” He sounds less angry now, and definitely aroused — the hazy way his voice curls around the word like woodsmoke over purple smudged mountains. 

“I — we should talk.” Louis looks away, hating the way his voice cracks, hating the way his cock aches in his pants for Harry’s touch. 

Harry stares at him for a beat, seemingly searching for words. “Fuck you,” is what he settles on, pushing away and stalking back across the room. He stops at the floor to ceiling window in the open space living room, staring out over the gray morning that crawls over New York city like a plague.

“You can’t just...you can’t just walk back into my life like this Louis.” Harry runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit that Louis has always found so endearing. Louis is frozen in the kitchen, trembling with a mixture of adrenaline and fear. “You can’t, Lou.” Harry turns and looks at Louis and Louis... _ fuck _ . He hates this. 

“Harry, baby. I —” Louis swallows and crosses the room, the soft white carpet under his feet making his steps soundless but he can hear his heart beating in his head like a drum.

Harry looks stricken and so, so young. He looks like he did that one time they were in Portugal and  _ they  _ told them about Eleanor. He looks like he did when Louis promised nothing would change when he knew everything would. 

“Harry. I fucked up. I know I did now. Please. I —” Harry watches him carefully and Louis feels the air, heavy and thick, around them as the words leave his mouth. 

“You did. You fucked up.” Harry sounds resolute, like his mind is made up. 

Louis nods his head and shoves his hands in his pockets. Their toes are almost touching but Louis suddently feels very far away from Harry. “I’m sorry. For everything.” He swallows but refuses to let Harry see him cry. He has to leave. He has to get out of there now. 

“I shouldn’t have come,” Louis whispers, still not looking at Harry. He’s about to turn and leave when Harry’s hand lands on the back of his neck, holding him still. 

“You fucked up. But…” Harry inhales and Louis can’t help it, he stares at his mouth, wanting it again. On him. “But I did too,” he whispers.

“No. No, Harry —” Louis shakes his head, disagreeing immediately. He looks up at Harry and is stricken by what he sees. Harry looks...conflicted. And sad. And angry. And desperate. And so goddamn beautiful it breaks Louis’ heart.

Harry silences him with a tighter grip on his neck. Louis quiets. 

“You fucked up more though,” Harry says, the ghost of a smile on the edge of his lips. “And I don’t forgive you. I can’t — not yet.” Harry’s brow furrows, the deep line creasing it and making his eyes that much more intense. “I will though. Eventually.”

Something unfurls inside of Louis. It feels like a promise, an almost there. An olive branch. 

God. They’ve really fucked this up. So badly. But now...standing in this room with the light slowly winding its way into Harry’s big open flat and the smell of Harry and his things and the way that the past feels like it’s bleeding into the present...it feels like a new beginning to Louis. “I miss you,” Louis says again.

“I miss you too.” Harry licks his lips and there it is. The spark. The thing that brought them together in the first place. It ignites between them and sets the world on fire all around them. It makes Louis feel brave. It makes Louis feel like he can do this. 

“Yeah?” Louis edges closer, dropping his hands to Harry’s hips, feeling the heat and muscle and bone. Feeling Harry.

Harry leaves one hand on the back of Louis’ neck and places the other on the small of Louis’ back, pulling him closer. The movement brings their cocks together again and Louis is reminded of the need thrumming in his veins. “Yeah,” Harry murmurs, bringing his lips to the side of Louis’ mouth. He kisses Louis softly, such a contrast to moments before, and then again and again, making his way across Louis’ face — over his cheekbone, down his jaw, down the side of his neck. Each soft press of lips to skin shudders through Louis, makes him want more.

“Yeah,” Harry says again, almost a sigh this time. He starts walking Louis backward toward the hall off the kitchen. They stop near the counter again, and Harry’s mouth finds his. This time the kiss is soft, tender, full of emotion that Louis has been squashing down over the last few weeks and months. It brings so much to the surface that Louis has to push away for a moment, licking the taste of Harry from his own lips. 

“Missed you,” he says, knowing it’s redundant but also knowing it’s not enough. His voice cracks and a tear slips down the side of his cheek.

“None of that kitten,” Harry shushes, wiping the tear away, cradling Louis’ face with big, calloused, warm hands. “None of that,” he says again, brushing his lips over Louis forehead.

Harry kisses him firmly, with tongue, and the taste, memory and feel of him everywhere has Louis responding without even realizing it. Louis does remember. All of it. And he wants it back. Wants to forget how stupid he was. How dumb they both were to think they were better off alone. He kisses Harry back and moans lightly into it, feeling Harry respond to him too, open and willing. Giving. 

“Bedroom.” The word is simple but falling from Harry’s lips it sounds like some sort of filthy, filthy thing — meant for night and secrets. It’s temptation and sin and Louis’ dick is very, very interested.

They make their way down the hall, kissing and touching, and Louis feels hot, almost too hot. When Louis kisses Harry inside the dark cool of Harry’s bedroom, Harry groans and pulls his t-shirt off over his head. Louis whimpers when he sees the long expanse of Harry’s torso. God he missed this. He runs a hand over Harry’s chest reverently and watches as Harry shivers. Harry stares down at him with desire in his eyes and Louis wants to show him how much he missed him. 

“Can I?” Louis slips his fingertips into the soft waistband of Harry shorts and Harry nods. 

“Yeah. Yeah.” He runs one hand through his own hair and places a thumb over Louis’ bottom lip. “Missed you so fucking much.”

Warmth floods Louis’ body and he finds himself nodding back, lost in Harry’s eyes, in the way Harry looks at him with trust and desire. He finds he misses Harry’s mouth which is ludicrous since they only just stopped kissing but after having gone without for so long he wants it now, more than ever. 

Louis pushes into Harry’s space and invades his mouth, hungry, tasting him like it was the first time. Harry has always tasted like heaven to Louis — so sweet and lovely and just.  _ Good _ . He pushes Harry’s shorts off and feel the bob of Harry’s cock against his clothed belly and he just has to look at it. 

Pushing away, he looks down at Harry and feels wetness spread inside his pants. Harry’s cock is truly the most beautiful Louis has ever seen. Not that he’s seen a lot of them. He’s watched porn, of course, and seen the other lads, but Harry’s? Hands down beautiful. 

Louis drops to his knees.

“Lou —”

“Shhh,” Louis says, gripping Harry with both hands. Harry hisses and Louis delights in it. He wants to tease him, wants to make him beg for it. But he also wants Harry to fuck him into next week — wants to feel it when he wakes up tomorrow. He wants to feel it as a reminder of how dumb they’ve been — how lucky they are. 

He rubs Harry’s cockhead over his bottom lip, feeling the sticky smear of come cover his lip like some kind of perverted gloss. He flicks his tongue out and moans at the taste of Harry. He can’t help it, he’s desperate for it. Wants Harry to fill him up wherever Harry can. His mouth. His arse. Wants to feel full of Harry for days. For the rest of his life. 

When Louis first wraps his mouth around Harry’s cock, Harry almost convulses, fucking forward obscenely, his cock bumping the back of his throat, the taste of pre-come filling Louis’ mouth. “Oh god, oh god, oh god. I’m sorry!” Harry shouts out, tangling his fingers in Louis’ hair, pulling his dick back out until just the head remains inside Louis’ mouth. “It’s been so long. Fuck. Your mouth.”

Louis smiles around Harry’s dick and rolls his tongue all over the head. It’s fine. It is. He wants Harry to want him, to use him. He wants Harry to feel good. Wants to make up for all the lost time. 

Smooth and salty, Harry fills his mouth like a dream come true. Louis looks up at Harry and Harry watches him with his mouth hanging open. Then, slowly, Louis runs his hands up over Harry’s bare thighs, feeling goose flesh erupt under his fingertips, until he can wrap each hand around the firm cheeks of his arse. He feels Harry flex under his palms and Louis increases the suction, working his tongue while he also uses his hands to push and pull Harry in and out of his mouth. Harry groans and works with Louis, throwing his head back so that he can moan up to the heavens. 

Louis wants him. In every way he can have him. 

Louis sucks Harry until Harry is shaking and almost there. They’ve been apart for awhile but Louis still knows Harry’s tells. His legs start quivering and the swearing starts. Harry’s deep voice gets deeper and he groans and curses while Louis brings him to the edge with his mouth and his mouth alone. Louis’ jaw aches and his throat burns because Harry has a fucking monster cock but there is no one Louis would rather have in his mouth. Ever.   

When Louis stands up, his knees ache and he is so hard in his jeans his vision whites a little when the fabric pulls over his cock. Harry whines at the loss of Louis’ mouth but it is short lived because Louis fucks his tongue into Harry’s mouth and Harry can’t do anything but reciprocate. The kiss is filthy, the taste of dick swapped between them and Louis loves it. Loves that Harry is as filthy as he is. Loves Harry. 

“Want you to fuck me, darling,” Louis says into his mouth. “Fuck me, baby. Please,” he whines. 

Harry groans, long and low, deep in his throat and he rips himself away from Louis. He pulls Louis’ shirt off over his head and Louis thinks he hears the seams rip. He shoves a hand in Louis’ pants and grabs his cock. Hard. 

“Want me to fuck you?” Harry asks and Louis would laugh under other circumstances because that’s the understatement of the year but Harry’s hand is working him, despite the tightness of his jeans, and his thumb is rubbing over his head and pushing into his slit and it hurts but feels so good and fucking hell he needs to be dicked. 

“Y — yes.  _ God _ .  _ Yes _ .” Yes, yes, yes, Louis’ mind screams as he undoes his fly and shoves his jeans down, tripping himself as he kicks them off. Harry doesn’t let go of his dick the whole time. 

They kiss again, because Louis doesn’t think he can be away from that perfect fucking mouth for more than two seconds, and also because Harry kisses like he fucks. Hard and soft, fast and slow. He takes what he wants and gives everything Louis could ever want and so much more. 

It’s addictive. 

Harry takes control of the kiss, of Louis’ whole body, once they are both naked and within seconds he has Louis bent over the bed, arse spread apart with firm hands and his cock fucking between his cheeks in slow, undulating rolls of desperate hips. The head catches on Louis’ rim and Louis cries out. He wants it so bad. So fucking bad. Louis’ cock is trapped between his stomach and the silken cotton of Harry’s quilt and  _ fuck _ . Louis could come just like this. 

Harry lays over Louis’ back and it’s too hot but Louis wants him there, trapping him, holding him down. Louis can’t believe that he almost gave this up. Gave Harry up. Gave up on them. All because life gets hard sometimes and there are people working to keep them apart and there are time zone differences and there are hurt feelings and pictures taken and not enough time to talk. He can’t believe he’s so lucky to have Harry in his life again. 

“Gonna c — come.” Louis grits out, while Harry slows down and breathes heavy over the back of his neck. He feels his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. 

Harry is gone then, leaving Louis shaking and cold against the mattress until he’s being lifted and manipulated onto his back on the bed. “Wanna see you when you come,” Harry half moans, half growls as he squirts lube over his fingers, dripping it on to Louis’ cock, his belly, the bed beneath them. 

Louis opens his legs and fucks up into the open air. He’s so  _ hard _ . His cock aches and his entire body  _ wants _ . 

“Look at you,” Harry whispers, eyes roaming over Louis’ body, making him feel hot all over. “So desperate for it aren’t you, love?”

“Y — yes. N — need you,” Louis whines and wraps a hand around his cock. 

Harry gently pulls Louis’ hand away and Louis’ cock protests by spurting out precome, some of it bubbling at the head and some of it dripping onto his belly with the lube Harry dripped over him. “Need you to stay hard, sweets.” 

Louis doesn’t say anything but a thrill shoots through him at the possibility over that. 

Cool fingers are at his entrance and he arches his back and pulls Harry forward with hands in his hair and heels on his back. When Harry’s finger enters him, Louis actually feels something snap inside him, a kind of awakening he remembers feeling the first time Harry fucked him. It felt new and exciting, but a little scary, and so, so right. So absolutely right. He keens and arches into it, fucking down on to Harry’s hand. 

“Harry.  _ Please _ .” He sounds desperate. He doesn’t care.

Harry bites at his jaw and sucks on his neck and rubs their cocks together as his hips roll over and over again against Louis’ and he pushes two fingers in and then three and then four and Louis is actually crying by the end of it, it feels so good. He’s so beyond needy now, he’s not sure he’ll even make it to getting Harry’s cock inside him. Harry pulls his fingers out abruptly, making Louis cry out at the suddenness and the loss and then, Louis watches in shock as Harry adds more lube to his dexterous fingers and reaches behind himself and starts finger fucking himself. 

“Wh--what?”

“Shh,” Harry whispers, eyes rolling up into his head as he throws his head back and starts riding his fingers in quick, short snaps of his hips. He sits up and his cock slaps against his stomach as he moans so beautifully and it makes Louis feel a little spacy watching Harry lose himself like this. He loves when Harry gets like this. He knows what he wants and he takes it.

Louis grips Harry’s thighs and Harry stares down at him with glittery, dark eyes and Louis knows. He knows this is it for him. This is all it will ever be. This is everything he’ll ever need. 

When Harry pushes inside of him it makes stars explode inside his head. Wet and slick and hard and fast it rushes over him all at once and he cries out, pulling Harry inside of him, down to him, claiming his mouth, his skin, his taste, his smell. 

“Want you.”

“I’m yours,” Harry mutters against his neck and he’s sweating and it’s hot and their skin slides together in harmony. 

Harry’s cock fits inside him like it was made for him and  _ god  _ Louis wants to come. Harry slides in and out fluidly and  _ fuck _ , his boy knows how to do this, has learned how to fuck Louis so, so good. It’s perfect. And it’s them. It feels like flying, exhilaration and emotion and speed and power and coming, coming, coming. 

Harry slams into him and Louis can feel Harry’s body shake under the force of his orgasm. “F — fuck!” Harry shouts and Louis feels wet heat fill him.He closes his legs around Harry’s waist and he finds his mouth and they kiss, wet and deep, hot breath spilling out between them.

“Fuck,” Harry says again and then he’s pulling out and dipping his fingers inside of Louis, making Louis yell, it feels so obscene and so raw and so  _ dirty _ . 

Fingers dripping with come, Harry grips Louis’ cock and gets him wet and messy with come and lube and then Harry’s climbing over him and easing Louis inside of himself and... _ holy fuck _ . 

Harry drops down on Louis in one go, Louis dick feels squeezed in the most unbelievable, perfect way and then Harry is rocking over him, sweat dripping from his face on to Louis. “Fuck,” Harry whines and then he starts fucking himself with Louis’ cock and he’s still hard — his boy is  _ still hard  _ — so Louis grips him and starts working him over and it feels so much. Too much. It’s so much. 

Louis kisses him — a mash up of teeth and lips and wet tongues, and Harry is crying out, coming again, feeble spurts over Louis’ hand and their stomachs and Louis wants to cry it’s so much. He’s missed his boy so much. 

Harry is still fucking himself on Louis cock and Louis can’t believe he hasn’t come a thousand times it feels so good and he thinks maybe this is what happens when you love someone like they love each other. It’s a never ending circle of want and desire and emotion and it has its ups and downs and the downs can cripple you but,  _ Christ _ , the ups. The ups make it all worth it. The ups make you realize how much the human heart can love, how much the human heart can break. And how much the human heart can be put together with the right kind of love. With the right kind of person. 

“Fuck. Fuck. God!” Louis cries out and explodes inside of Harry, the release like hurtling off a cliff, color and bright and so, so good it makes Louis start crying again.  He’s shivering and crying and coming. 

He loves Harry so much.

“I love you, I love you,” Harry is breathing into his skin and pressing himself as close as two people can be and he’s there. He’s there. He’s  _ here _ . He’s real? He’s on top of Louis and he’s with Louis and he’s  _ here _ . 

Louis smooths his hands down Harry’s back and kisses his face over and over again, assuring himself that this is real. This is really happening. It feels like maybe the past few months have been all part of some horrible nightmare. Harry leans up, finally, when Louis has slipped out of him, and he kisses Louis on the lips, softly, tenderly. 

“I love you,” Louis says, staring at Harry. Into his eyes. Into his soul. 

“I know, petal. I love you too. So much.” Harry kisses him again. And again.

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispers, tears threatening to spill again. 

Harry just kisses him and whispers, “No. Don’t.” 

Eventually they lie side by side, their bodies cool and shivering under the ceiling fan when Harry pulls the quilt over them. Louis pretends he doesn’t feel sticky from sex and he pretends he doesn’t have anywhere else to be and he pretends he doesn’t have to wee. He won’t pretend that the last few months didn’t happen though. No. He needs to remember, so he never forgets how much he needs Harry. How much he loves him. How hard they need to fight for this. For them.

All he needs is Harry. And, for now, he has him. And that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiii! Thank you for reading. If you liked it, [here](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/post/172257407780/its-not-the-flowers-in-your-hair) is a rebloggable post on tumblr. Let me know what you thought in the notes. Thanks xxo


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